NearxMello
by Hug-in-a-box
Summary: The title kind of explains it, huh? Near is bored, so guess who comes along to cure it? COMPLETE.
1. The Problem

**Wow. I haven't written fanfiction in a long while now. It's all the fictionpress stuff I've been doing... hmmmm...**

**Summary: Near has secluded himself from the world after SPK HQ was destroyed in the public rampage. Who else comes to cure his boredom, but Mello? And oh my, in what way:)**

**Enjoy**

_0oO0_**N**e_**ar**_X**M**_e_**l**l**o**_0Oo0_

Near thoughtfully pressed a Lego piece down onto his model of the House of Parliament, two pieces away from completing the image. It was 5:12am, much to Near's surprise. He hadn't noticed the time go by. Unfortunately, since the public had tried to raid SPK headquarters, Near had had to hole himself away with what little information they had obtained, building intricate, detailed models to occupy himself. The current L couldn't contact him because his voice changer and untraceable number were still in headquarters, so he couldn't contact L either.

He placed the last two pieces down on the table, the energy to click them into place dissipating. He hadn't realised he was tired until now, and his body was numb from being stuck in one position for so long.

He gazed around his hideaway sullenly. He found himself wondering if Mello was revelling in his misery, wondering if Mello even _knew _he was miserable or if he was even alive, and wondering why he was wondering.

With a small sigh, he clicked the last two pieces into place. He stood up uneasily, stretching out the ache in his bones...

An uncontrollable recklessness coursed through his entire being. The boredom and the silence – he couldn't _stand it any more_. He whirled on his heel, drew back his fist and smashed it into the structure, blowing the pieces apart from their links with a spectacular bang.

"Damnit!" he yelled. He was going insane with the dullness! He _needed_ –

With a harsh, deep breath, he centred on his anger and boxed it up in the back of his mind. He didn't need this right now. He needed his detachment. He couldn't remember the last time he'd vented out his anger, but it felt painfully good. He detached himself when he needed to solve out his problems… but this wasn't a problem he could so easily find the answer to. How to find a cure for his own boredom, but keep himself safe?

He gazed at the ruined structure on the table, idly wondering why Mello never seemed to achieve the intellectual advantage of detachment, or even care to achieve it. It was something that both intrigued and irritated him about the blond.

The very thought of Mello was making him even _more _tired. He really should stop. Yet he found he couldn't. This whole… rivalry L's two protégés had mutually developed was always a disadvantage to the both of them, and yet neither attempted to understand the other.

He knew that there had been a sort of comradeship between them when they exchanged Mello's photo and the murder notebook. Mello had even been so kind as to inform Near of the fake rule. Now that, Near realised, blocking out the stinging in his fist to a dull throb behind one knuckle, was not something Mello would usually have done. Sure, Mello had the morality to give something to Near in return for the only photo Near had of him, but he would _never _overpay. He wasn't that sort of person. If he could find a way, he would give back as little as possible. Something of lesser value than what was traded to him.

The fact that Mello had overpaid, Near found, made him feel quite warm inside. It was a strange; comforting feeling he didn't recognise, and did not feel deserved a place in such a drab situation.

He sighed again, sinking back into his usual neutral, mellow frame of mind.

Ha. Mellow. What a coincidental choice of words. Or maybe not so coincidental after all. Was this a subconscious sign of his fixation on Mello?

He groaned. He really, _really _didn't need this right now. He walked (stumbled) to bed, changed into his white pyjamas – identical to the clothes he wore during the day – lay down on the bed and curled up on his side.

Sleep came quickly.

_0oO0_**N**e_**ar**_X**M**_e_**l**l**o**_0Oo0_

Near spent the next day building a matchstick model of Taipei 101, and re-enacting World War I with what little toys he had left.

Bored. He was incredibly, mind-numbingly bored again. He had nothing to challenge or stimulate his intellect. As he had no contact with the few members of SPK or L for the sake of his traceable bunker phone-line; the data he had was just a jumble of useless words and numbers. He had statistics of deaths – the person, situation, crime and time – but there was no visible pattern, thus practically no understanding of Kira's thought process. Sure, Kira mostly killed the most dangerous of criminals – murderers and serial rapists high on the list – but this was what most people with the gift of death would probably do.

All Near knew was that the new L could be Kira, and that Kira was horribly close to winning.

Near wouldn't – couldn't – let that happen.

The old bunker phone on the far wall began to ring loudly, breaking Near out of his reverie. He walked over to it and quickly pressed the button to cut off the call in a fit of shock/panic unbecoming of him.

He couldn't believe it. Someone _knew he was here_. Even the SPK members didn't know his whereabouts.

He hoped – prayed – it was simply a misdialled number, but the phone began to ring again, shaking its rusted holder noisily.

Near stared. He didn't pick it up.

It didn't stop ringing.

He walked away.

_0oO0_**N**e_**ar**_X**M**_e_**l**l**o**_0Oo0_

**_Tada. Part 1. Unfortunately no action for poor, bored Near. I think you can guess who's calling, huh?_**

**No reviews, no action :) Please review for the sake of poor Near!**

**_Luv, hugs and jelly babies from Hug-in-a-box_**

**_PS - apologies for typos, if there are any..._**


	2. The Cure

**Ho humm... So here is part 2 of 2. Congrats on making it this far! Cookies and kudos for you!**

**Why did I not write some yummy boy pr0n?**

**/cries/**

**THIS SHOULD BE AN ANGST FIC BECAUSE NEAR GETS NO PR0N! (So all you lawsuit happy parents who have Internet-rugged kids, BLEH! because there is no dirty (yummy) degrading (delicious) boy pr0n here (unfortunately for me).)**

**PS - Apologies in advance for any typos, and apologies for not writing a disclaimer. But everyone knows Death Note doesn't belong to me! If it did, Near and Mello would be screwing like bunny rabbits. (So I guess this is a disclaimer in itself.)**

**_Enjoy_**

_0oO0_**N**e_**ar**_X**M**_e_**l**l**o**_0Oo0_

Three hours and twenty-seven minutes later, the phone rang again. Near was seventeen die away from completing the empire state building model he was making. He glanced over at the phone, dice held steadily between finger and thumb, trying to regulate his breathing, which had become erratic. He didn't understand. He had been so careless. He should have just left the phone to ring the first time it had rung. By pressing the cut-off button, he was practically hanging a banner outside the hole-away exclaiming that near was there in bright, fluorescent letters.

So, slowly, he approached the phone. It was no use pretending he wasn't there now, after all.

It didn't stop ringing.

He picked it up.

"Near?"

A strange thrill went through Near's body. It was Mello. He'd recognise that voice anywhere.

"As if you had to ask," he answered, suppressing the thrill and the shake in his voice, but not entirely. His voice broke on the last word.

"Having problems, Near?" Mello commented.

He coughed once. "Perhaps I'm ill."

Mello sighed slowly, as if aggravated. But then again, he almost always acted that way when it came to Near. "Near, why are you still there? In that bunker?"

Near sighed in return. "Self-preservation, it would seem."

Near could hear the scowl Mello's face would be wearing in his voice. "That's just another word for cowardice."

"You think I don't know that?"

That seemed to throw Mello for a loop. But it was only the truth. Near wasn't trying to protect the pathetic amount of information SPK had struggled to gather; he was trying to protect himself. He _was _a coward. The other members of SPK were out there at the mercy of the people, and here Near was, safe and sound and _bored_ in a dank bunker half a mile below ground.

"…Open the door, Near," Mello's voice, oddly quiet, filtered through the phone's speaker.

"Why?" Near asked, surprised despite himself.

"Because I've been waiting three and a half goddamn hours behind it."

Near froze.

"…I'm still waiting, you know," Mello muttered irritably after a few moments.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Near forced back the reflexive 'um' hanging in the back of his throat. "I'll go." He placed the phone back in its holder. He reached the door and unlocked it, thanking whatever God out there that he had oiled the bolt, and gently (AKA nervously) opened it.

He was met with the sight of a very pissed off looking Mello, sitting cross-legged on the ground. There wasn't a chocolate bar in sight.

"Well, look who finally decided to show his face," he grumbled, getting up and patting the dust from his black leather trousers.

"Come in," Near murmured politely, stepping aside for Mello to walk in. He locked and bolted the door shut behind them.

"What? Afraid someone will jump in and ambush you while I'm here?"

"Something like that," Near answered. When he turned around, he was looking straight into the barrel of a 9mm.

"Give me one good reason not to shot you right here, right now," Mello hissed.

Near closed his eyes for a second. When he opened the, they were lead-heavy on Mello. "Didn't I tell you before that if you wanted to shoot me, you could?"

Mello paused.

"No one's here to stop you this time, Mello. I'm not going to waste my breath trying to persuade you not to do it, since you hate me so much."

Mello's hand trembled.

"Shoot me."

He lowered the gun.

"Now who's a coward?"

He rose the pistol again, teeth gritted. "What the hell did you just say to me?" he cried. "You –"

"I meant me," Near cut in.

Mello hesitated. "What?"

"I suppose I used the wrong words. I meant me. I'm too afraid to face what may lie ahead of me. I'd even accept death before I would face it. Before it was simply a challenge, to make you realise that there was an advantage to you of my being alive. Now that is no longer the case. You could shoot me if you really wanted to. I wouldn't attempt to stop you."

There was a pause. How long it lasted, Near didn't know, but ever so slowly, Mello lowered the gun and tucked it under his belt, hidden behind his coat.

"Why did you wait so long, Mello? Outside, I mean," Near asked quietly, twirling a finger through his snow-white hair.

Mello's eyes followed the movement of Near's slim pianist fingers. "I was giving myself… thinking time, I guess."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Kira."

"Should've guessed," Near muttered.

"And you."

This time it was Near who was thrown for six. The thrill shot through his body again – a mix of adrenalin and endorphins coursing through his bloodstream.

Mello approached him slowly. "Near, I don't understand you."

"Nor I, you," Near whispered.

The blond ran a hand wearily through his hair. "Why do I keep thinking about you?"

Near's body thrummed with endorphins at the words.

"I mean, without you around to compete with, everything about this case is _boring_. I can't stand it."

The euphoria disappeared in an instant. _Boredom. It was just boredom._

"So come out," Mello implored. "Back to your HQ. Start working again. Kira's still out there, and with you secluding yourself and me too tired of it all; nothing's going to happen."

Near sighed, upset for some reason. "And what of the members of SPK?"

"Dead," Mello answered slowly, confirming Near's fear. "Or captured by the public to face Kira's judgement. So basically dead." He glanced around Near's stronghold observationally. "I suppose it's marginally worse than this hellhole."

"So are you saying it's not so bad that I'm staying here?"

"No," Mello said immediately. "You have such a backwards way of thinking, Near. You tell me that I can shoot you – that you're willing to die – and yet you stay here. You said you couldn't face going out, but it'll end up the same way! Get out and get your bloody ass kicked then!"

Near stared at the angered blond for a moment, thinking it over. Then, feeling Mello's gaze on him the entire way, he walked over to the table where he had left his hand-carved wooden darts, and threw them at his other dice model of Tokyo. It fell apart spectacularly on impact, the ear-shattering clatter of die ringing through the bunker.

Mello stared at him as if he had been possessed by a malevolent spirit.

"Society is crumbling just like that," Near muttered, eyes dark with thought, when the last dice fell still, at Mello's startled expression. "I don't think Kira's blindly devoted or frightened followers have any morals any more. I'm afraid to go outside because of it. Some of Kira's followers wouldn't wait for his judgement. They would tear me apart. I highly doubt the idea of torture is beyond them."

A long, pregnant silence thrived between them.

"Did I shock you?" the whitehaired boy asked quietly, the silence shattered. "I'm sorry."

"…"

"Mello?" Near inquired, taking a step towards him.

Mello stayed silent until Near took another step, narrowing the gap between them to a mere yard.

"I don't understand you," he repeated sullenly.

Near closed his eyes. "Yeah, I know," he murmured.

A long yet miniscule moment passed before two soft, warm lips pressed against his. His eyes shot open in astonishment. Mello was claustrophobically close, dark eyes closed under his long bangs.

Mello – 

The blonde's eyes opened slowly without parting from him. They watched each other silently even when Near tipped his head to the side and gently began to respond to the kiss.

Mello's hands fell comfortably to Near's waist as they kissed, watching the way Near's silver half-moon eyelashes fluttered to half-mast.

They parted slowly, eyes finally closing as they leant their foreheads together.

"It's boring without you," Mello whispered between hitching gasps. "Come out."

"I'll –" Near took a deep breath to steady himself. "I'll think about it."

Mello sighed. "You think too much, Near."

"But I didn't think about this…" Near murmured, rather enjoying the sensation of Mello's hair brushing against his face. He curled his arms around Mello's neck. "If I'd thought about this, I wouldn't have done it."

Mello froze. "What?" he asked, voice sinking in disappointment.

Near indulged himself in a smile he couldn't remember wearing before. "Cowardice."

"Self-preservation," Mello muttered, relieved.

"Why did you kiss me?"

Mello smiled. It looked odd and sweet and comforting in a strange way. "I decided to kick that crap about keeping away from you. I was thinking it outside the door." He tilted his head to the side to kiss Near's jaw. "But I didn't want to like you."

Near paused. "…'Like you'? You didn't hate me?

Mello huffed in exasperation. "Would I kiss you if I hated you?"

"But some hatred redirects to lust, and –"

Mello kissed him again. It lasted a little longer than he meant it to. And the tongue was a bit of a surprise. A _nice _surprise.

"What were you saying again?" he asked teasingly.

"Um…"

The next kiss was a nice surprise, too.

_L'amour au Near et Mello_

_A hidden story_

_0oO0_**N**e_**ar**_X**M**_e_**l**l**o**_0Oo0_

**Sorry. The 'L'amour au Near et Mello - A hidden story' is one of my friends' ideas. THEIR FAULT. NOT ME. I AM WONDERFUL AND PERFECT.**

**Yahs...**

**Anyways thanks very much for reading, and if you could please leave a review on your way out I would totally appreciate it. I might even write a deeper NearxMello fic. THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH NEARXMELLO FANFICS OUT THERE.**

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**Luv, hugs and jellybabies from Hug-in-a-box**

**/hints at the little blue box at the bottom of the screen subtely/**


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